light heart, right hand

What’s the thing you’re most scared to do? What would it take to get you to do it?

Trust someone with my heart.

The heart is a gift, one to be honored before tearing away at the wrapping to reveal what’s inside. Somewhere in that tearing trust resides, patiently waiting to be held in another’s hands.

A while back I only wanted to work with people that would die within hours or days because with people like that there’s no stage of tearing. On arrival you’re invited in but are also reassured that they’ll be no need to reciprocate the invite. In this way I could love without risk.

But one day I came upon a woman that didn’t die right away and who lived months longer than expected. I don’t know at what point it happened but eventually I invited both her and her husband into my heart. After six months of seeing her once a week she died and I was unprepared to admit we’d built a friendship or acknowledge a need to mourn.

She taught the importance of laying waste to beliefs arising from things outside of the heart and how once resolved, all that remains is the core and purity of love. My trusting (again) requires willingness to honor the trembling with which some hands reveal when tasked with fortifying its fragility.